


Deja Vu

by vejiraziel



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vejiraziel/pseuds/vejiraziel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift cannot shake the feeling he'd gone over a similar situation in the past and he isn't eager to repeat the experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoilers for the Drift Mini Series.
> 
> Thanks to hellkitty for beta reading for me.

He'd heard many of the privileged mechs from the higher parts claim one could not feel the cold or the heat due to the metal that composed their external plating but Drift begged to differ. 

Even here, in his crystal cage the Circle of Light called a utopia, Drift still felt the cold and the warmth. Whether the likes of Wing, Axe or Dai Atlas could tell the difference at all, he didn't know. He assumed only those who had suffered in the lowest pits of Kaon would be capable of noticing the differences, those who experienced the real feeling of starvation was like.

He felt particularly sensitized to those changes at the moment, even if he convinced himself it was merely because he was emotionally raw at the moment. Not long ago, Wing had provoked him into talking about why he'd joined the Decepticons and he was still reeling from the memories stirred by the confession.

He hated to remember those times. He didn't like thinking about him. About Gasket.

Gasket had been many things for that little band of forsaken he 'd formed back then. Drift could remember each one of them, how easily they became the closest thing to friends and family he’d ever had. 

At first, Gasked had been annoying for Drift's taste, trying cycle in and cycle out to coax him into coming with him to the small home he'd made out of a disused storage unit. Finally, Drift had relented when hunger and cold became too much to bear --too much for his pride to compensate. He'd felt a little self-hatred at the time for allowing himself be coaxed like a turbofox with a meal and the promise of a warm place to charge in. 

There wasn't enough room to give them much privacy, but they made do with what materials they could scavenge from nearby trash deposits and other leftovers they secured from places around Kaon.

The first off cycle he spent in Gasket's home, he begrudgingly charged in Gasket's arms. He was so cold and so under-fueled his looser plates kept rattling and waking the mechs already in their recharge cycle. Gasket took him to the makeshift separate room within the larger room where Gasket recharged and kept their supplies, and forced Drift to liewith him. Drift had been against the move at first, but soon Gasket's body's warmth became too inviting for him to refuse the offer. 

"Don't think this will become a habit," Drift muttered, begrudgingly pressing his head to Gasket's chest.

"Of course not, now charge and let the others rest."

Drift could have sworn Gasket was smiling as he spoke. He had been too embarrassed to even consider looking up, fearing to see that annoyingly optimistic smile of his. It was just the beginning of things to come.

Soon, Drift spent most of his time with Gasket, learning from him what he could, and teaching in return what he had to offer. Gasket took care of him --of all of them, really. Drift would never forget what Gasket was doing for them...and little by little, Drift's natural aggression diminished if only around his mentor and savior. 

Drift could not remember how all began, how his simple admiration became closer to an immature form of affection. He was like a youngster sometimes, craving and vying for Gasket's attention just for him. The other's didn't care too much as long as they still had a place to rest and their share of the energon they procured by whatever means possible. They all knew the risks implied and Gasket always tried his best to make sure everyone who went into their expedition would return. Most of the time this was true, but some cycles they just weren't lucky enough and one of their numbers would be taken captive. 

There was a rule amongst them, for the preservation of the group's safety as a whole: if rescuing a captured friend placed everyone else at risk, they would go on without the missing friend. Unless they had reasons to fear for that friend's life. Then, Gasket was sure to look for a way to secure the friend's safety. Sometimes it was Gasket's gift of eloquence what came to the rescue and sometimes it was Drift's more prankish antics, like blinding the soldiers with paint balls.

It would often end with Gasket giving him a good natured slap on the back of his helm and a soft plea not to risk his life unnecessarily.

Drift was convinced that whatever grew between them was reciprocated by Gasket with the same strength Drift felt. It started with Drift sneaking from his place in the storage unit to Gasket's makeshift room and back into the old padding of Gasket’s berth and the warmth of his plating.

Little by little it grew into more: playful touches here and there; Drift invading Gasket's personal space; brush of the lip plates here; a stroke on a sensitive seam. Before they knew it, they were sharing the same berth every off cycle and expending the energy they did not have, drowning their whimpers and moans of pleasure in any way they could. Gasket had gained a collection of bite marks courtesy of Drift's attempts to quiet his cries during overload.

The others didn't care. But once in a while, they could be heard abandoning the unit for a while just to have some peace and quiet while Gasket and Drift were lost on each other. Drift was not happy per se, but it had been the closest to a happy time he ever had in his life.

His taste of happiness didn't last long, though.

"Stupid...," Drift muttered to himself, glaring down at the peaceful citizens on the streets below as he perched on the edge of a balcony. "You had to go be a hero...always caring for everyone."

Drift could still hear the gunshot as it was fired echoing in his processor, and the cry of pain from Gasket. It hurt so much that the last sound he could hear from him wasn't his cry of pleasure, or his amused chuckles or that annoying laughter of his. No, it was his cry of pain as he was deactivated by a guard.

"You miss him."

Drift narrowed his optics as he heard Wing speak. He didn't want to talk to Wing at the moment. It was too soon...he was still raw.

Wing pressed on. "It's ok to miss someone you cared for."

"I didn't care for him," Drift muttered.

Wing crossed his arms, his optics dimmed at the obvious denial the Decepticon mindset forced upon Drift. "You didn't? So, you went on a murderous rampage when he was downed just because?"

Drift growled and leaped off the balcony, turning around to face Wing. "What do you care?"

Wing shrugged. "Well, you said it yourself: I am annoyingly optimistic." He smirked. "I want to think you cared for someone at least once in your life, and I'm just telling you it's ok to miss him."

"I don't want to miss him," Drift spat, feeling anger and dejection bubbling up within him. "He went and got himself killed. Serves him right for trying to save everyone!"

Wing recognized the pain and emotional ache in Drift's optics, Drift had come to resent Gasket's death as being abandoned again. "I don't think his intention was to leave you alone again."

"Does it matter? The result was the same anyway!" Drift walked past Wing with a huff. "I can't trust or care on anyone but myself, that's all."

Wing watched him go and tilted his head with a sad smile. "You are going to be a pain in the rear fender, Decepticon Drift, but if someone broke through once...I will not rest until I break through your hard shell."

Drift sat on the steps at the entrance of the tower, looking ahead without really focusing on anything. He was afraid of caring again...he was scared that if he allowed someone through he would go through the same ache. He didn't think he could bear to care...maybe love again, only to have it all taken away again. Drift didn't want to hear a loved one's cry of pain as the last sound to remember them by. 

He didn't want to hurt again.


End file.
